


Romans

by paperstorm



Series: Deleted Scenes [94]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tag for <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1552579/?ref_=ttep_ep12">'Swap Meat', 5x12</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romans

**Author's Note:**

> _Hate what is evil; cling to what is good._   
_Romans 12:9_

  
“What did you guys do? When you thought he was me?” Sam asks.  
  
Dean smirks. “You mean, did I try to hump him?”  
  
Sam doesn’t answer for a moment and then groans. “Shit. Dude, I hadn’t even thought of that. Did you?”  
  
“No.” Dean shakes his head and chuckles. “Luckily.”  
  
“So what _did_ you do?”  
  
Dean shrugs. “We worked the job. Hunted the ghost. It took me a while to figure out there was something up with you.”  
  
“What made you realize it?”  
  
Dean laughs again as he remembers. “At first I just thought you were being weird. Ordering cheeseburgers and liking my music and stuff. That dumb little hunt was like the best moment of that kid’s life, so it was like, what? Who is this guy and what did he do with Sam? But then we were at this bar, after we ganked the spirit, and you picked up this cougar and left with her while I was sitting right there. It was so not _you_ that something finally clicked.”  
  
Sam looks over, his eyes widening and his eyebrows shooting up into his long bangs. “Wait, are you saying that little asshole had sex with somebody in my body?”  
  
“Yes I am.”  
  
Sam shakes his head, his lips moving wordlessly, and then rubs his hands over his face. “That’s … I don’t even know what that is. Little fucker better have used a rubber. If he freakin’ caught something …”  
  
“It would be the third STD you’ve had in like a month, and you didn’t get any of them from actually banging anyone,” Dean finishes, trying very hard not to laugh and failing completely.  
  
“This is so not funny.”  
  
“It kinda is, man. Sorry.”  
  
Sam glares at him, but it’s half-hearted.  
  
“So his family sucked?”  
  
“God. They were unbearable. Parents constantly harping at me about grades and college and shit. I’m telling you. Our life hasn’t exactly been a picnic but in a lot of ways we had it better than most kids do.”  
  
“You love grades and college and shit.” Dean doesn’t say out loud how happy it makes him to hear Sam talking about their childhood and remembering it fondly, but he doesn’t hide his ear-to-ear smile either.  
  
“Honestly?” Sam slouches back in the chair and runs a hand through his hair. “At least half the reason I went is ‘cause I knew Dad didn’t want me to.”  
  
Dean frowns. “Really?”  
  
“I mean, I wanted to go. I did,” Sam continues. “But it wasn’t about going to school, it was about going anywhere. Just _doing_ something. Something he didn’t approve of, something other than following around after the two of you and hating every minute of it.”  
  
“It wasn’t all bad, right?” Dean asks. For the most part, he’s finally started believing it when Sam promises he left to get away from Dad and hunting, not away from Dean. It took him a long time, but he mostly believes it now. Still, it hurts sometimes to hear Sam talk about it. He remembers those years so differently than Sam does.  
  
Sam smiles softly, dimples cutting into his cheeks and his eyes crinkling. “No. Definitely not.”  
  
“Good.” Dean stands up and stretches his arms over his head. “For a second I was afraid they were gonna hafta revoke my stud membership card.”  
  
When he drops his arms and looks back down, Sam is starting at a spot around Dean’s waistband with his lips slightly parted.  
  
“Perv,” Dean jokes, and Sam smiles again.  
  
“You know, when I was at Stanford? I used to think about … what would’ve happened if you’d gone with me.”  
  
“Pretty sure they don’t let you into a school like that when you don’t even have a diploma from a real high school.”  
  
“No, I mean, just if you’d come. I thought about asking you so many times before I left. And then once I was there, I used to wonder what it would’ve been like.” Sam sits forward in his chair and leans onto his arms on the table. “If we would’ve gotten a place together. What kinda job you’d find. If one of us would’ve changed our last name so we could be together for real.”  
  
Dean frowns again and bites his lip. He sits back down and thinks about what Sam said for a minute before he replies. That was never meant to be their life, even Sam has accepted that by now, but it makes Dean sad to imagine Sam so young and off on his own, imagining the kind of life they could have built together if everything was different. “If you’d asked me to go with you, I would’ve.”  
  
“I know. I think that’s why I didn’t, in the end. Didn’t want you to have to choose, I … I didn’t want you to come with me out of some sense of obligation. To have to wonder if you were only there with me because you didn’t know how to tell me ‘no’.”  
  
“I never was any good at that,” Dean agrees, smiling when Sam does.  
  
“It had its advantages.”  
  
“Like how you wanted to get into my pants and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer?”  
  
“It worked out in the end, didn’t it?”  
  
Dean licks his lips and nods. “Yeah. It did. We had some good times.”  
  
“We still do. In between the crap.”  
  
“There’s been a lotta crap lately, huh?”  
  
Sam shrugs. “It’ll probably get worse before it gets better.”  
  
“Well that’s a cheery thought.” Dean stands up again. He pulls his overshirt off and rolls it up, tucking it into his bag. When he looks back, Sam is still sitting at the table and is staring down at his hands, his hair falling to cover his eyes. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Sam shakes his head. “It’s dumb. Never mind.”  
  
He gets up and crosses the room, heading for his own duffel bag, but Dean stops him. He catches Sam by the waist and pulls him into a kiss. “How ‘bout you tell me and let me decide if it’s dumb?”  
  
“Did you like him better than me? Because he was more like you? Loving hunting and classic rock?”  
  
Dean smiles a little and kisses Sam’s neck. “No. I mean, for half a second it was like, hey, Sam’s finally being cool. But if you were anything other than exactly what you are, you wouldn’t be _you_.”  
  
“I guess.” Sam captures Dean’s lips in another kiss, and Dean lets their lips slide together for a moment before he continues, his words smeared into Sam’s mouth.  
  
“I’m not exactly my own biggest fan, Sammy. I like you because you _aren’t_ like me.”  
  
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Sam murmurs, slipping his fingers under Dean’s t-shirt.  
  
“That’s what I got you for.”  
  
“Yeah, it is. You gotta let me, though. Gotta believe me, sometimes. When I tell you how awesome you are.”  
  
“You still beatin’ yourself up for killing Lilith?” Dean counters.  
  
Sam pauses and then sighs. His lips fall away from Dean’s and he looks down.  
  
“Goes both ways, kiddo,” Dean says quietly. He cups Sam’s smooth cheek in his hand and kisses him again.  
  
“I gotta call the kid.” Sam kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth and then steps out of Dean’s arms, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Before we … y’know.”  
  
Dean grins and raises an eyebrow. “Think you’re gettin’ some tonight?” he teases.  
  
“Like you’d turn me down,” Sam teases back, clapping Dean on the arm as he walks past him and holds the phone up to his ear.  
  
Dean pulls his t-shirt off and then sits down on the bed, kicking his boots off as he listens to the one-sided conversation.  
  
“It’s Sam. Yeah, that Sam. You screwed someone while you were walking around in my body? … Yeah, he did. That’s not something you thought I needed to know, I guess. … Man, I don’t even wanna hear it. Just tell me you wrapped it up.” There’s a long pause, and Sam glances over at Dean and rolls his eyes. “A condom, moron. In my experience? A chick that’ll leave a bar with a stranger does it more than once.”  
  
Dean smiles and shakes his head, both at the situation and at Sam pretending he has experience with bar skanks.  
  
“Are you sure?” Sam asks into his phone. “You better be. Because I swear to God, if I get tested tomorrow and find out you’re lying, I will be on your doorstep in an hour with my sawed-off. No, I’m not joking. You would not be the first little twerp I’ve had to take out. Yeah. Good.”  
  
He hangs up, probably cutting Gary off mid-sentence, and rolls his eyes again as he tosses his phone onto the table. “Idiot.”  
  
“You were a bit of a dick,” Dean tells him.  
  
Sam shrugs. “Had to scare him so I’d know he was telling the truth.”  
  
“True.” Dean waits until Sam’s looking at him and then raises an eyebrow. “So? We doin’ this?”  
  
Sam chuckles. He pulls his shirt off and walks over to Dean, shoving him onto his back and then crawling on top of him. “Who could resist a proposition like that?”  
  
“Not you.” Dean grabs Sam’s face and pulls him down into a quick, rough kiss.  
  
He pushes his tongue into Sam’s mouth and his hand into the back of Sam’s jeans, squeezing a handful of his ass and guiding Sam’s hips down so he can rolls his own up against them.  
  
“Wanna fuck me?” Sam asks, more causal about it than he usually is. It lights a fire in Dean’s belly.  
  
“Yep.” Dean plants a foot on the mattress and flips them over, landing hard on top of Sam and grinding into him. “Then maybe later you can do me.”  
  
Sam laughs, bright and happy and carefree and it makes Dean smile. “One of those nights, huh? Feeling optimistic?”  
  
“The most we’ve ever done is, what, three?” Dean responds with a shrug. He dips down and drags Sam’s lower lip gently between his teeth. “We got a record to break.”  
  
“Says who?”  
  
“Says me.”  
  
“You’re not fucking me three times,” Sam tells him. “There isn’t enough lube in the world.”  
  
“We’ve got mouths.” Dean kisses along Sam’s jaw and pushes his thigh into Sam’s hardening cock, grinning to himself at the soft moan Sam can’t quite hold back. “And hands. And feet.”  
  
“ _Feet_?” Sam asks loudly.  
  
“Isn’t that something people do?”  
  
“Weird people, maybe.”  
  
“People weirder than a guy who fucks his brother, you mean.”  
  
Sam laughs again. “Look at you sayin’ it. Like you don’t even care.”  
  
“I don’t. Never did.”  
  
Sam scoffs and Dean reconsiders.  
  
“Alright, not _never_. But not for a long time. Not now.”  
  
“Good.” Sam finds Dean’s lips again with his own and lets Dean slide their tongues together.  
  
“You never cared for a second?”  
  
Sam pauses before answering, looking up into Dean’s eyes. “Yes I did. Before we’d done anything. It’s why I ran away, remember?”  
  
Dean nods. For the moment, he’d forgotten that, but he did know it. He slips off Sam slightly, pressed into his side instead of on top of him, and props himself up on his elbow to look down at his brother.  
  
“I struggled with it like crazy,” Sam continues softly. “You know I did. Guess I just loved you too much to let the fact that we shouldn’t stop me from wanting to.”  
  
Dean leans down and kisses the spot behind Sam’s ear. “It was pretty damn good once we gave in, so.”  
  
“Still is, right?”  
  
“Hell yeah.”  
  
Sam kisses him slowly, and Dean trails his fingers down Sam’s bare chest, popping the button on his jeans and pushing his hand inside to touch the hardened flesh. Sam sighs quietly and rolls his hips up against Dean’s hand.  
  
“You still love me that much?” Dean doesn’t know how or why the mood shifted to sentimental and the words get caught on the way out of his throat, but he wants to know.  
  
Sam shakes his head. “More. Way more.”  
  
“Sap,” Dean says with a smile that Sam returns.  
  
“You asked.”  
  
Dean kisses him instead of answering. Sam pushes his hips up again and Dean rubs him through the soft cotton of his well-worn boxers, before slipping his hand under the elastic waistband and curling his fingers around Sam’s cock. It’s familiar in his hand and he squeezes under the head and swipes his thumb over the moisture at the tip.  
  
“Clothes off,” Sam mutters, shoving gently at Dean’s shoulder.  
  
Dean doesn’t want to get up but he’s uncomfortably hard in his jeans so he drags himself away Sam to get them off. There’s shuffling behind him and when he turns around Sam is undressed too, standing there looking at Dean, his cock hard and his skin tanned and his body so perfect it’s annoying and arousing at the same time. He has never understood for a single second how gorgeous he is, no matter how many times Dean tells him.  
  
He stares for a moment too long, and Sam rolls his eyes again and mumbles, “Shut up,” even though Dean didn’t speak.  
  
“It’s just fucking stupid, man.”  
  
“ _Stop_ ,” Sam snaps – not really angry – and grabs Dean by the waist. He pulls him in for another kiss that’s all teeth and the struggle for dominance, and topples them back onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. Dean ends up on top, probably because Sam lets him, and rolls his hips into Sam’s, their cocks sliding together between their stomachs. It’s warm and too dry and Dean still loves it, loves the feeling of Sam next to him, underneath him.  
  
“Get the stuff,” Sam says after a minute, and Dean raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Not in the mood for foreplay?”  
  
“Do we have time?” Sam reasons with a wry half-smile. “If we’re goin’ for four, we gotta get busy.”  
  
Dean laughs. “Fair enough.”  
  
He gets up again and finds the lube quickly in his bag, turning back to find Sam propped up on his elbows, watching. “Now who’s staring?” Dean points out as he crawls back onto the bed.  
  
“It’s a nice view,” Sam replies with a shrug.  
  
Dean gets in between Sam’s legs, smiling to himself when Sam spreads them to make room for him, and squeezes clear gel onto his fingers. He leans over Sam, propped up on one hand beside his head, and kisses him as he slides fingers into Sam’s body. Sam rocks down on Dean’s hand, demanding more quickly and Dean’s vision gets cloudy around the edges, more turned on than he’s been in a long time. Every time they do this, Dean can’t figure out why they don’t do it every day. Then the sun rises the next morning and everything else gets in the way, and he remembers why they can’t.  
  
“It’s enough,” Sam whispers, kissing Dean around the words.  
  
“‘Kay. Like this?” Dean asks.  
  
Sam shakes his head and smiles mischievously. “From behind.”  
  
“Any particular reason? Not that I’m complaining.”  
  
Sam kisses him again, his hands holding Dean’s face. “‘Cause then you can really go for it.”  
  
“Jesus,” Dean breathes. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?”  
  
“Your dick, I’m hopin’,” Sam jokes.  
  
“Not quite what I meant.”  
  
“You wanna talk about our feelings or you wanna mess me up?”  
  
“Is that, like, a dare?”  
  
“Triple-dog-dare.”  
  
Dean laughs. “Damn. That’s serious shit.”  
  
“Very.” Sam smiles up at him, so unrestrained and beautiful Dean has to kiss him one more time.  
  
“Roll over.”  
  
Sam does, and pushes up onto his hands and knees. Dean stands behind him, leaning over to press a kiss to the base of Sam’s spine while he spreads slippery lube over his aching cock. He pulls Sam’s hips back toward his own, holding the base of his cock in one hand and guiding it slowly into Sam’s body. Sam grunts and his head falls forward, hair hanging down over his face.  
  
“You good?” Dean asks, struggling to hold back – the tight warmth of Sam almost too inviting to resist.  
  
“Don’t stop.”  
  
Dean slides in all the way, moaning as the silky heat envelops him, and then pauses to let Sam adjust. He leans down and kisses between Sam’s shoulder blades, murmuring, “Love you,” because it feels like a safe moment.  
  
“Me too.” Sam rocks back into Dean. “C’mon.”  
  
Dean smears kisses down the trail of Sam’s spine as he starts to move; a slow, easy rhythm in and out that feels amazing even though it’s unhurried. Sam moves with him, pushing back against Dean’s thrusts. This is familiar too, the way they move together, parting and coming back together like practiced choreography. He reaches around Sam’s waist for his cock, wrapping his hand around it again and stroking, squeezing, twisting the way Sam likes.  
  
Sam shakes his head a little and breathes out a soft laugh.  
  
Dean smiles and frowns at the same time. “What?”  
  
“Nothin’. Feels good.”  
  
“And that’s funny, why?”  
  
“It isn’t. M’just happy.”  
  
Dean smiles wider, digging his thumb under the head of Sam’s cock and loving the moan he gets in response. “Sam Winchester, happy. Somebody get a camera.”  
  
Sam ignores him in favor of tilting his hips so the tip of Dean’s cock finds his prostate. “Fuck.”  
  
Dean chases after it again, grinning to himself when Sam moans louder. Sam clenches around Dean’s cock and pleasure trips along his nerves, blooming warm and vivid in his gut.  
  
“That all you got?” Sam asks – half joking, half not, daring Dean to prove him wrong.  
  
“You wanna regret those words?” He pushes all the way inside and stays pressed against Sam, leaning over to drape himself over Sam’s back and nip at his earlobe.  
  
“I want you to fuck me,” Sam returns, his arms shaking to hold up Dean’s weight on top of his own.  
  
“Thought I was.” Dean slaps his ass and pulls his cock all the way out so he can slam it back in.  
  
Sam grunts and exhales heavily, but still grinds out, “Like you mean it.”  
  
Dean grins and takes it for the challenge it is. He speeds up, gripping Sam’s hips so tight it has to hurt and crashing into him. A wild, unfiltered sound rips from Sam’s throat and he rocks back into Dean on each thrust.  
  
“Shit,” Dean mutters, pleasure spinning through him too fast and too much.  
  
Sam reaches for his own cock and rasps a harsh, desperate, “Dean.”  
  
“Do it,” Dean growls. “Don’t hold back, wanna hear it.”  
  
Sam strokes his cock quickly while Dean tightens his fingers around Sam’s hips and fucks him harder, their ragged breathing and the slap of skin deafening; the blood rushing in Dean’s brain muffling the sounds. Sam tenses suddenly, crying out and panting and then moaning brokenly. Dean’s head spins. He slams into his brother a few more times and loses it, tipping over the edge and crashing into pleasure that paralyzes him. He sinks onto Sam’s back when the lightening stops striking, the world still spinning too fast and everything around him blurry and far away. He just breathes, the scent of Sam’s skin heavy in his nose and the warmth of sweat-damp skin feverish against Dean’s cheek.  
  
Vaguely, he’s aware of Sam softly saying his name.  
  
“Sorry,” Dean mumbles, not sure what he’s apologizing for other than that Sam was trying to get his attention and his brain had momentarily forgotten how to function.  
  
“I love you but we’ve got about ten seconds until my arms give out.”  
  
Dean shakily manages to get back up, kissing Sam’s shoulder briefly and telling him, “Don’t move.”  
  
He pulls himself slowly out of Sam and then reaches with trembling hands for Sam’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart and licking along the slick, loosened rim.  
  
“Fuck,” Sam rasps.  
  
The bitter taste of Dean’s own come lights up his taste-buds, makes his glands tingle, and he licks it out, the dirty thrill getting his still-hard cock tiredly interested again, along with the way Sam twitches and groans like he wants Dean to stop and keep going at the same time.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whispers, reaching back for him, looking like it’s taking every bit of strength he has left to keep from collapsing.  
  
Dean swirls his tongue around Sam’s hole one more time, and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls back onto the mattress. Sam just sort of crumbles, falling in on himself and into Dean’s arms more by coincidence than pre-planning.  
  
“Fun?” Dean asks after a few more moments breathing deeply to remember how. He smiles at the appreciative groan he gets from Sam.  
  
“Like Disney World for grown-ups.”  
  
“How would you know?”  
  
“I’m assuming. You know there’s no way either of us are stayin’ awake for three more times, right?”  
  
Dean chuckles and trails his fingers down Sam’s back. “I know. A guy can dream.”  
  
Sam laughs too, soft and fond. He tucks his head under Dean’s chin.  
  
“When we stop the Apocalypse? We should get a room, like a nice one, and just do this all day.” Dean kisses the top of Sam’s head and then tightens his arms around him.  
  
Sam hums. “Like our reward.”  
  
“We’ll deserve it, don’t you think?”  
  
“Yeah. Definitely.”  
  
He doesn’t correct Dean’s words to _if_ they stop the Apocalypse, even though Dean knows Sam is thinking it. Dean doesn’t correct himself either. _When_ is the only option. They have to stop it. So he knows they will, together.  
  
“Okay, how ‘bout just one more?” Dean bargains.  
  
Sam kisses his chest. “I could be talked into it.”


End file.
